


Christmas Dreams

by spikesgirl58



Series: Twenty Five Days of Christmas [21]
Category: Man from Uncle - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-22
Updated: 2012-12-22
Packaged: 2017-11-22 00:38:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/603887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two views of Christmas from two very different and very young standpoints.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mrua7](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Mrua7).



Napoleon clutched the edge of the window sill and stared into the night.  Outside, the wind blew big puffs of snow around, piling them up against the garage and the stone wall.  He kept wiping the window with his sleeve as it steamed up.   It had taken him a long time to get the thick ice that usually coated the upstairs widows to melt.  He wasn’t about to lose his vantage point now. 

The road was buried now and many of the familiar landmarks Napoleon knew like the back of his hand were gone.  If he couldn’t find his way, how would Santy…?

“Napoleon Solo!  What are you doing up at a time like this?”  Mommy’s voice was loud, but not mad.  She knew why he watched.  Mommies knew everything.  She set a tray with a mug on it by his airplane lamp and joined him at the window.  “Mr. Jack Frost is certainly having a Christmas party out there, isn’t he?”

There was a sharp crack and a branch from a nearby maple tree toppled to the ground, a victim of the wind and snow.

“What are we gonna do, Mommy?  Santy will never find me!”  Napoleon stopped just short of wailing.  He was fighting back tears.

“What makes you think Santa won’t find you?”  The wind made the roof creak and snap.  “Santa is magic, Napoleon.”   Katherine Solo took her little son’s hand and started back to bed with him.  “However, I do know Santa will not come if you aren’t in bed fast asleep.  Now, hip hop back to bed.  You are freezing cold.”

“If I don’t get that train set, Mommy, I’m gonna die.”

“Napoleon, don’t be so dramatic.”  She hefted him up onto the bed and pulled up the covers.  “I brought you some hot chocolate.”

There was a loud slam and a shout of “Mother, I’m home!”  Napoleon’s eyes opened wider.  “You won’t tell Daddy I was out of bed, would you?”

“Not as long as you promise to stay in bed.  You don’t see your sister running around.”

“Mommy, she’s a baby… and a girl.  She don’t even know about Santy.”  He took a deep drink of the chocolate and smacked his lips. 

“That’s your job as a big brother, Napoleon.”  Mommy took the cup from him and tucked him in.  “So besides the train set, what else did you ask Santa for, Napoleon?”

“An erector set and some new cars.  And a new cap gun and a Slinky.”

“What about clothes?”

“Yuck!  Who would want clothes for Christmas?”  Napoleon yawned widely.   “And some cowboys and some Silly Putty…”

Katherine kissed her son’s dark hair and smiled.  She knew what treasures awaited Napoleon in the brightly wrapped packages downstairs.  He would have a good day tomorrow, whether or not they had electricity or even any relatives.  At this age, his wants were simple and she prayed they would stay that way for a while longer.  This was such a special time.

                                                                                ****

Illya sat back in the chair and swung his feet in frustration.  The storm that was blowing outside kept everything hidden from view.  He glanced over at his mother as she bathed his baby sister and decide to risk it.  Quietly, he stood up on the chair and peered out the unfrosted top bit of the window panes.

“Illya Nickovetch!  Sit!  That is a chair, not the floor.  If you want to stand, stand on the floor, not the chair.”  Mama’s voice sound tired.  It was always tired these days. 

“But he promised!”  Illya sat down and began to swing his feet again.  “He promised,” he repeated softer.

His mother lifted Taisia from the wooden tub of water and wrapped her in a towel.  She giggled as Mama dried and tickled her.   Illya had already had his bath.  As the oldest, he had to go first.  He was feeling a little weird about Mama bathing him as of late and of his little sister seeing him naked.  He didn’t know why, he just did.

Mama got to her feet with a soft groan and straightened her back.  Vyetka was by the fire, already asleep in his crib.  She bent and kissed the butter-soft, sleep-tousled hair.  Vyetka was going to have dark hair like his father and sister. 

“Illie, play,” Still wrapped in the towel, Taisia grabbed Illya’s hand and jumped up and down.  “Sing!” 

Illya shook his head.  “I can’t, Taisia.  I have to watch.”

“Watch what?”

“Papa promised he’d be home for Christmas.”

“Papa?!”  The little girl crawled up into Illya’s lap and tried to look out the window.  “PAPA!” she called and Illya shook his head.

“He’s not here, Taisia.”  He hugged her hard and sighed.  “He’s not coming.”

Mama lifted Taisia off his lap and the young girl struggled to get down.  The minute her feet hit the floor she headed straight back to Illya.  “It’s time for all good boys and girls to be in bed.”

Illya knew better than to argue and he just didn’t have the will tonight.   He slid off the chair, took his little sister’s hand, and walked to the bed they shared.

“Illya, what would like to find in your stocking tomorrow?”  Mama adjusted the covers and gave him a kiss. 

“Papa.”

“Illie’s silly,” Taisia giggled as she snuggled closer to her big brother.  “Papa not fit!”

Yuliya wished there was something she could do, but, times being what they were, it was enough that they were safe and had food on the table.  Someday Illya would understand.

 

                                                                                ****

Napoleon woke and listened for a few minutes.  The wind had died down during the night.  He climbed out of bed and pulled on his robe and slippers.  It was always cold in the morning.  He quietly crept down the stairs and paused at the bottom.  If he turned left, he would go into the parlor where the Christmas tree stood.  If he turned right, he’d go down the hall where the stockings were hung.

For a long second, he thought and then turned left.  The tree was brightly lit and a fire crackled merrily in the fireplace.  Christmas music was softly playing and Napoleon could smell cinnamon rolls baking.  His mouth dropped open at the train running around the base of the tree and he couldn’t help but cheer.

“Hurray, Santy made it!”

Katherine stood in the doorway and smiled as her son did a little dance.  It didn’t matter that they were dangerously close to losing the farm.  It didn’t matter that there was a war raging and people they loved were dying.  All that matter was this moment in time and Napoleon’s happiness.

                                                                                ****

“Anyone in there?”

Napoleon came back to the present with a blink.  There was a very attractive girl perched on his knee and she was looking expectantly into his eyes.  “I’m sorry.  Santa was taking a bit of a break.  What was your Christmas wish, Sally?”

“To have someone warm, capable, and strong to spend New Year’s Eve with,” She practically purred the words to him and fluttered her eyelashes.

Out of the corner of his eye, Napoleon saw the little train chug past again and he chuckled, “Ho, ho, ho, little girl, we will see what Santa can do about granting your wish.”  All the while, in Napoleon’s heart of hearts, all he wanted to do was to lie down on the floor and play with that train.  He’d had one just like that growing up.

                                                                                ****  
Illya felt whiskers scratching him and couldn’t quite figure out what was happening.  He opened his eyes and gave a happy shout.

“Papa!”

Nicolai gathered his small son into his arms and hugged.  It had been well after midnight before he managed to make his way through the front door.  He’d wanted to wake Illya up then, but Yuliya refused, knowing Illya would not sleep afterwards, and she felt she and Nicolai deserved some time together first. 

Later, there would be food, laughter, and music as the family celebrated.  There were no gifts, but, watching Illya hug and kiss his father, she didn’t think he would care.  He had his Christmas wish, hers as well.  Papa was home.

“I’m sorry it took me so long, Illya, but there were things to take care of.”

“Are you home forever, Papa?”

Nicolai laughed.  “I am home for now.  We must never ask for more than that, son.”  He took off his wool scarf and draped it around Illya’s neck.  “Sleep a little bit more now and later we will see what St. Nicholas has brought, eh?”

Illya didn’t care about those promised gifts.  He pulled the scarf closer and took a deep breath as he settled back beneath the blankets.  The scarf smelled just like Papa and that was enough for now.

                                                                                                ****

Illya set his cup of eggnog down and sighed.  He missed home and his family at this time of the year… at least he would see them soon.

Napoleon, sans his fluffy white beard and hat, collapsed into a chair and sprawled out.  “Who would have thought being Santa was such hard work?”

“All those women sitting on your lap and you keeping your virtue in check.”

“Well, not so in check, but at least I now know why Santa wears such baggy pants.”  Napoleon sat up and leaned forward.  “Listen, this party is winding down and I know a great place to grab some dinner.  You game?”

“After a night of weak eggnog and unappetizing hors d’oeuvres?  I am very ready.”

Napoleon glanced back at the tree one last time.  “I used to have a train set just like that when I was a kid.  I loved that thing!  I still have it packed away in the closet.  My folks almost lost the farm that year and still Mom managed to scrimp and save enough money for that train.”  Napoleon remembered the happiness and a certain amount of determination in her eyes and felt truly loved.

Illya wrapped Papa’s scarf around his neck and, just for a moment, he could feel his father’s arms, strong and loving, hugging him.  “Well, perhaps after dinner, we can set it up and you can tell me its story.  After all, tonight is about memories.” 


End file.
